


Our Mutual Friends

by TygerTyger



Series: Glorious Ponds [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TygerTyger/pseuds/TygerTyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River and Mels wake up in the same B&B on the morning of Amy and Rory's wedding. River has no idea what she's doing there but Mels knows exactly how she ended up there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

River wasn’t quite sure why she was here, of all places.  She woke up in the only B&B in Leadworth with a feeling she needed to be somewhere, to do… something. Where had she been yesterday? Last week? Ten years ago? She remembered a promise and an invitation. That’s right, she had this wedding to attend in the afternoon, her…friends’ wedding.

Dreams were really taking an age to seep away this morning. She shut her eyes again and got her story straight in her head. Family friends, wedding, gift, then back home. Yes. That was right, wasn’t it?  She sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her face with her hands when the thought struck her: _Oh God! I’m having a stroke!_ She jumped up to the mirror on the dresser and examined her face. _No, not falling at either side_ , she thought, prodding her cheeks. She tested her speech – “Raxacoricofallapatorius” – perfect, definitely not a stroke. _Thank heavens for that!_

More was coming to her now. The friends of the family were… Amy and Rory who were getting married at half past two. She looked around the room; it was cosy but old-fashioned – like a lost grotto of chintz. Anything that could have a floral pattern did, and each one was different. The cacophony of blossoms certainly wasn’t helping the state of River’s head.  Hanging on a coat hanger on the wardrobe door was a knee length black dress and a black overcoat with a large, furry collar. _Wearing black to a wedding, that’s so me_ , she thought, whatever that meant.

She showered and then dressed. She rolled her stockings up her legs and fastened her suspender belt clips, slipped her dress over her head and tied the belt around her waist. Dressing was like a ritual but it also felt like the first time she had ever performed it. She stepped into her shoes, flawlessly applied her makeup, and teased her hair into a pleasing shape.

There was a knock on the door. “Breakfast is finishing at ten, dear, will you be down or do you want me to keep something warm for you?” said the guesthouse proprietor, her voice muffled through the door.

“I’ll be down,” she called back and heard the floorboards creak as the woman walked further down the carpeted hallway.

River stood up and took a small bottle of perfume from the dresser. She sprayed a cloud in the air in front of her, closed her eyes and walked through it. She put the bottle back on the dresser and left the room.

 

 -----

 

Mels knew exactly why she was here, in this dingy hole of a B&B in Leadworth – Amy’s mum forbade her from staying over the night before the wedding, probably thought she was bad influence. Ha! If only she knew what her precious little Amelia got up to, it’d turn the old bag’s hair white.

But Amy said, “Just this once, humour her.”  She pretended not to be hurt – must have done a fantastic job because Amy wasn’t even a tiny bit concerned that she’d have to stay in this hovel. Some bloody best friend she was.

She sat up on the bed and felt a definite wooziness – she probably shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of vodka in the park the night before. Sitting on the swings, kicking the wood chippings like she was trying to wipe out the whole chipping race.

Her bridesmaid dress was hanging on the door looking red and…bridesmaidy – a horrible shiny cliché. She frowned at the thing, willing it to be different but it was no bloody use. She was sorry she ever agreed to be a bridesmaid in the first place. She couldn’t think of anyone who was further from the definition of a ‘maid’ than herself. Good old Mels, always game, one of the lads but up for it if you get her in the right mood. They could all go and fuck themselves.

She went to shower to wash the alcohol out of her pores and found herself stopping under the flow of water, thinking. Something was wrong, something was different, _something_ was missing. A thought came through the haze of the hangover, _I shouldn’t be here, it makes no sense._ What did it mean?  Suddenly the water turned frigid. She screamed and bolted out of the shower – stupid cocking B &B. She kicked the sink pedestal with her bare foot and was instantly sorry as pain shot up her toe. “Fuuuuuckkk!” she screeched grabbing her foot and hopping to sit on the edge of the bath.

“Everything alright in there, Mels dear?” came Mrs Gateshead’s voice through the door, followed by the knock that, by rights, should have come first.

“Yes!” Mels shouted out cradling her foot.

“Breakfast’s nearly finished, do you want me to keep any warm for you?”

“No, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Alright, dear,” said Mrs Gateshead and she shuffled off back downstairs.

She poked her toe and whimpered – it hurt but wasn’t broken.  She dried herself on an oversized flowery bath towel and sighed as she slipped the red-satin-disaster on over her head. She threw her leather jacket on over it, which seemed to improve it. She went for her shoes before remembering her sore toe, and thought it better to put on her trainers, for now at least.

She left the room and went down for breakfast.

 

\----

 

River sat at a table by the window, facing out and hoping that the daylight would help her brain kick back into action.  Mrs Gateshead arrived at the table with strong tea and rubbery toast. “Now,” she said, placing the stainless steel teapot in front of River, “what can I get for you?”

“This will be fine,” replied River smiling meekly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little egg, or some bacon?”

“No thank you.” Mrs Gateshead accepted the refusal this time and headed back in the direction of the kitchen.

River was not in any mood to eat, but tried a few bites of the toast before sugaring her tea.  Over her shoulder, the door swung open and the handle made a loud noise as it collided with the wall. She didn’t look around but she could hear someone come in and stamp to the table behind her and sit down heavily.

Mels took her sunglasses out of her coat pocket and shoved them onto her face muttering, “Bloody bright in here.” She had sat purposely facing away from the bay window to save her head from further trauma, even if that left her almost back-to-back with the woman in the table looking out onto the green.

“What can I get for you dearie?” said Mrs Gateshead clattering in with a little stainless steel tray of tea and toast.

“Two eggs, fried, three slices of streaky bacon, two sausages and a bottle of ketchup,” she listed. “Oh and coffee, strong coffee.” Mrs Gateshead lingered for a moment toing and froing. “…please?” Mels offered. With that, Mrs Gateshead smiled again and set off back to the kitchen.

River smiled at the order, there was a time she could put away a breakfast like that easily. A breakfast exactly like that, in fact. She stirred her tea.

“Nice outfit Mels,” said a man sitting at the back of the room. “Going somewhere nice?”

“Shut up Joe, you know it’s Mum and Dad’s wedding today – you’re the bloody limo driver, for fuck’s sake.”

“Language, Timothy!” crooned Joe. “And what do you mean – your Mum and Dad?”

“What?” said Mels flatly.

“You said it’s your Mum and Dad’s wedding. I know you three are best mates, but thinking of them as your parents is still a bit mad.” Joe snorted a laugh.

“No I didn’t,” Mels said, blinking behind her sunglasses.

_Yes you did,_ thought River.

River’s head began to swim, something was happening, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It felt almost exactly like déjà vu, but it wasn’t that. She stared out the window and soon a truth crystallised in her head, forming one of the jigsaw pieces she had been missing all morning – She and the woman sitting behind her were the same person. Her teaspoon fell from her hand and it landed with a clatter onto her saucer.

 

\---

 

Another thought filtered through; _I must keep her away from the wedding_. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something about a man – and her very existence depending on it. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying to massage some sense into her beleaguered brain. “Refill?” said Mrs Gateshead. River looked up at the kindly woman and just nodded. “You don’t look well, Dear.” River blinked and said, “Rough night,” then laughed weakly.

“You should talk to Mels here, she knows all the cures.” She could hear Mels’ chair creak as she turned around to join to conversation. River turned quickly back towards the window, eyes wide, and froze.

“Rude bitch,” said Mels under her breath, but loud enough for even Joe to hear. Mrs Gateshead left the room again to fetch more tea and finish Mels’ epic breakfast. Mels began to stir her coffee with unnecessary vigour, sending it spilling over the rim and clink-clinking the sides of the cup annoyingly. _God, I was such a brat_ , thought River but she smiled all the same. Mrs Gateshead entered with Mels’ huge breakfast and River’s tea. She placed the brimming plate down in front of Mels and planted the ketchup next to it. Mels proceeded to squeeze it all over the breakfast in long, artful lines.

“Are you going to the wedding too?” Mrs Gateshead asked River.

“Yes, I think so,” said River wondering whether to disguise her voice or not.

“Drink your tea and you’ll be as right as rain in no time.” River sipped the strong brew and thought the older woman right. “It’s going to be a great day, first wedding we’ve had in Leadworth in ages, the whole village is going to be there.”

“More’s the pity,” said Mels before taking a mouthful of bacon and chewing loudly.

River wondered what she was going to do. She needed to get out of the dining room so she could think of a plan. She drank great slugs of her tea, looking out the window at no one passing by. Suddenly, there was a groan behind her followed by a mantra: “Food is my friend, food is my friend.” It was Mels commanding her breakfast to stay down – it never worked. Her chair screeched back and she ran from the room clasping her hand over her mouth. River flinched; she remembered that feeling like it was yesterday, or today.

“Good old Mels,” said Joe, piping up from the back of the room, “never changes.”

River felt something burn in her chest and she turned to look at Joe with barely disguised rage. “You’re one to talk! All that business with the postman – your poor wife. How is Glenda? Well you’re staying in the B&B again so I suppose that speaks for itself.” River had no idea how she knew any of that. Her hand jumped she felt almost compelled to clap it over her mouth, but she stopped herself.

Joe’s sausage fell off his fork and he tried to formulate a response. River stared straight at him, daring him to speak but he just looked back in shock. She stood up and flounced out of the room.

 

\---

 

River climbed the stairs to go back to her room, she passed Mels’ door on the way, she could hear her retching inside – the sound made her grimace but she knew she’d have a few minutes to get her things and go before Mels surfaced.  She entered her room and quickly donned her coat and her pearls and looked around the room for something else. She wasn’t sure what. Oh yes, the gift. She opened her overnight bag and there it was – a battered old blue diary. _Remind me to never invite me to a wedding_ , she thought at the seeming crappiness of the gift. There was something about it though, she flicked through the pages and thought there was something missing from it. _A life_ , she decided, unsure what that meant. She heard the toilet flush in the room next door and thought it would be prudent to make her escape now.

She shut the door turned the key in the lock, its large wooden key ring knocking noisily as she did so. She tiptoed towards the stairs only to see Joe at the bottom intending to climb it. He flushed a deep crimson and she knew he wasn’t going to tackle her about her earlier outburst. She turned her eyes to the ground as she slid past his large frame and into the hallway. He trudged up the stairs and she could hear his room door shut behind him. She went to hang her room key on the assigned hook inside the door and noticed that on the table were Joe’s car keys. She hesitated a moment but she knew what she was going to do – or what she must have done.  She palmed them and slunk off to the kitchen to find Mrs Gateshead cheerfully washing dishes, singing along to the song on the radio.

“That man, the one in the dining room,” River called out, “He just told me he’s not feeling the best, he wondered if that girl – Mels is it? – could drive the limo over to the bride’s house for him and he’d follow on after?”

“I’ll let her know when she comes down,” said Mrs Gateshead approaching River and then whispering, “Awful trouble with his bowels, has Joe.” River just nodded trying to hide the disgust at the thought of Joe’s bowels.

“Thank you,” she said, handing the keys over, “better get that car down to the Ponds’ quick smart, you know how fussy Tabetha can be.”

“Oh, were you a school friend of Tabetha’s?”

“No, she’s my gra… cousin.” River was perplexed again, how was Amy’s mum be _her_ gran: it didn’t make sense. “Anyway, best be off, lots to do,” she said with an airy, slightly manic, laugh and turned on her heels and rushed out the front door.

 

 ---

 

Mels had cleaned herself up again and brushed her teeth. She came down the stairs with her shoes in her hand, still wearing her grotty trainers. She saw the woman from the dining room dashing out the door. “Well, goodbye then, so nice chatting to you!” she yelled out after the retreating figure, “Cow.”

Mrs Gateshead came out of the kitchen waggling something at her. “Joe’s not feeling the best, wants you to bring the car over to Amy’s.”

“Me?” asked Mels poking herself in the chest and looking around for hidden cameras, _This must be some sort of joke_. Mrs Gateshead nodded and pushed the key into her hand and went back to the kitchen.

“Sweet!” said Mels. She threw the key up in the air and caught it again before heading out to the limo and starting the engine.

 

 ---

 

In his room, Joe was straightening his tie in the mirror when he heard the engine of his beloved car turn over. He went to the window and threw aside the net curtain to see it reverse out with the unmistakable shape of Mels behind the wheel.

“No!” he shouted and came hurtling down the stairs and through the door only to see the car screeching around the corner followed by an horrific grinding of gears. “The clutch, the clutch!” he pleaded uselessly. He barged back indoors and shouted for Mrs Gateshead, who came out of the kitchen drying her hands in a tea towel. “What’s the matter Joe, are you feeling better now?”

“What?”

“Your bowel trouble, has it eased?” He looked at her, completely baffled. “That woman, the one with the hair,” she gestured a big halo around her head, “she said that you weren’t feeling well and that you wanted Mels to bring the car over to the Ponds’.”

“She what? And you didn’t think it unusual that I would let Mels Zucker drive my car?” Mrs Gateshead shrugged. A bolt hit Joe, and he cursed himself for being so stupid, “Those two were in cahoots! Call the police Mrs Gateshead, my precious has been _stolen_.”

Mrs Gateshead nodded then rushed out the door to the next house and rapped sharply on the window. A sleepy looking man opened the door, brushing his teeth. “Officer Grimes. Mels has stolen Joe’s car again.” The policeman threw his eyes up to heaven and said, “I’ll be along in a few minutes Mrs Gateshead,” and closed the door.


	2. Two

River still wasn’t sure what she was doing or why she was doing it. Her memories were coming back in small pieces but she still couldn’t make sense of it. She needed to think, so she went to the park – it seemed like it would make a good thinking place.  She pulled her coat around her and perched herself on one of the swings, letting the gentle motion calm her.

“Oh, hello?” said a man coming in through the low gate of the park.  

“Rory!” she said happily, feeling as though everything was going to be somehow fine now that he was here.

“Do I know you?” he asked as he approached her.  

“I don’t know, do you?” asked River hoping he’d give her some clue as to what was going on.

“Eh, do you want me to guess?” he said, throwing his arms out to the side but still looking so kind that River couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m a family friend of the Ponds’,” she decided to answer.

“Oh, right, right, I remember you from that time with the thing,” he said. River chuckled: Rory was always so polite. “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

She gestured for him to sit next to her. He parked himself down and began to swing lightly.

“You’re not Scottish,” he said.

“No, up from London,” she replied as though it was the truth. “Just here getting some air before the main event.”

“Me too, needed some thinking space,” Rory said tapping his head with two fingers.

“Oh. Do you want me to go? I don’t mind. Honestly.”

“No!” he said quickly and looked at her curiously, as though she might have the answer to some unknown question. “Do you ever feel like you’re forgetting something important…but you can’t really remember what it is?” he said eventually.

River stopped swinging. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just something Amy said to me on the phone this morning…it got me thinking, what if there _is_ something I’m forgetting?”

“You have the rings?”

“Yep,” he patted his pocket, “but not that sort of something. Something else, someone else, some other life.”

River’s breath stopped as she considered what to say. She had the exact same notion, but she had no more idea than he had what was missing. She thought that anything she might say would confuse him even more, and she didn’t want that.

“Here,” she said, handing him the old blue diary. Her fingers clung to it even as she was giving it, as though they understood she shouldn’t be letting it out of her possession. She looked at the book as Rory took it from her, and then she remembered.

_The shape of the book – the same as the box – the madman with a box – her darling – her sweetie – her husband and he didn’t exist, because no one remembered._

Only now, she did.

“Thanks,” said Rory, eyeing the battered old book and its empty pages, “I think.”

“It’s for Amy,” said River, “you know, old, new, borrowed, blue…”

“Ah,” said Rory, “I get it.”

“Don’t forget the borrowed bit though, I’ll need it back. I’ll be your real wedding present later.”

“What?”

“Hm?”

“You just said _you’ll_ be our wedding present, what does that even mean?”

“No I didn’t, I said I’ll _give_ you your present.”

Rory regarded her doubtfully, but accepted her version. “I have to go,” he said, “my wedding after all!” He jumped up out of the swing clutching the book. “Wish me luck?”

“You won’t need it,” said River wistfully, “That girl would tear the universe apart for you.”

Rory smiled, “Do you think?”

“I know,” she replied.

Rory didn’t question her any further; he just turned and sauntered happily off in the direction of the town hall.

“I love you, Dad,” said River quietly as she watched him leave, her memories now filling the gaps in her head in a steady trickle.

 

\---

 

Mels turned the limo dramatically in the driveway, sending gravel showering all over Augustus’ carefully tended flowerbed. She yanked the handbrake up and hopped out and then, remembering her shoes, leant back in to fetch them from the passenger seat.

“Jesus Mels, I can see your pants.” She whipped around to see Jeff standing with his hand not covering his eyes at all.

“Not like you to complain, Jeffy,” she said and stalked right up to him, pressing her chest into his arm. “What are you doing here anyway, shouldn’t you be over in Rory’s, bestmanning or whatever?” she said, flattening the lapels of his jacket slowly and purposefully.

“Collecting the buttonholes,” he gulped.

“Well lead on, lead on,” she said gesturing towards the open door. Jeff skittered inside and Mels followed him through to the kitchen. Amy was leaning on the counter chewing on a slice of toast and reading a magazine.  

“No cold feet yet, then?” said Mels, smiling widely at her friend.

Amy looked up to see Mels and Jeff standing just inside the doorway, she threw her toast down on the plate and chewed what was in her mouth as quickly as possible so she could speak. “Mels! My best friend in the whole word, Mels! You’re here!” Amy hugged Mels around the neck almost choking her. “And Jeff,” she said, punching him on the arm, “I hope you didn’t keep that soon-to-be husband of mine out too late last night, you naughty boy.”

Jeff’s cheeks flushed an interesting shade of raspberry. “No! All in at a reasonable hour.”

Amy jumped up and down in her bare feet clapping her hands.

“Here Tabetha, this one hasn’t hit the sauce already this morning has she?” said Mels to Amy’s mother who was fiddling with the box of buttonholes.

“Melody Zucker! No daughter of mine would enter into a legally binding contract under the influence of alcohol.”

“Of course not,” said Mels winking at Amy and not noticing Tabetha’s slight grin. “Here Amy, I got you something.” Mels rooted into her jacket pocket and produced a small box and passed it to Amy before stealing one of her slices of toast.

Amy opened the box, “Oh Mels, I love it!” she said, taking out a gold chain with a small red apple pendant and holding it up to the light.

“Yeah, thought it’d match your wedding shoes,” she said and then leaned in to whisper in Amy’s ear, “and your wedding knickers.” Amy slapped her on the arm and winked. “Here, miss anger-management, let me,” said Mels taking the chain. Amy lifted her hair for Mels to fasten the chain around her neck. “There.”

“Speaking of shoes, where are yours?” Amy said looking Mels’ trainer-shod feet.

“Over there,” she said pointing at the red heels sitting on Tabetha’s immaculate counter. “Buggered my toe on Mrs Gateshead’s sink when I kicked it.”

“Yeah, I’m not even going to ask why you were kicking Mrs Gateshead’s sink.”

Jeff went and retrieved the box of buttonholes from Tabetha.  “Now remember, this is Rory’s, it doesn’t matter who gets any other one.”

“Understood,” he said as he edged past Mels who was purposely occupying the doorway.

“Off you go now, best man,” she said and smacked him on the arse as he passed, causing him to skip down the hall. She smiled as she watched him leave and then stepped back into the kitchen. “Now, is no one going to offer me a cup of tea?”

“Make your own bloody tea, you lazy sod,” said Amy laughing.

“Amelia! That is not language befitting a bride!” Tabetha scolded.

“Sorry, Mum,” Amy said, giggling and glancing at Mels who was giggling too and biting her lip.

There was a knock on the door.

“It’s wide open, why would anyone knock?” asked Tabetha, sighing exasperatedly before going out into the hallway.

“Excited?” Mels asked Amy after Tabetha had disappeared.

“Yup!” replied Amy, “A bit sad though too.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Becoming a _wife_ , sounds horrific.”

“No,” said Amy, throwing Mels a withering look, “Something else, like someone’s missing, someone important.”  Mels opened her mouth to speak but before she could ask Amy what she meant, Tabetha re-entered the kitchen with a face like thunder. “Melody, it’s for you.”

 

\----

 

Mels couldn’t say what had possessed her to throw her shoes at officer Grimes, or to run away. It could all have been explained easily if she could have just been bothered. But Mels never ever took the straight path in life. Before she knew it he was upon her, catching her by the waist and knocking her to the ground, thankfully onto the grass verge and not the asphalt.

“Get off me you pervert,” she screeched. He hooked her two hands behind her back and cuffed her before pulling her to her feet.

“Why do you always run, Mels?” asked officer Grimes wearily.

“The only way to travel,” she replied glibly.

He sat her into the back seat of the police car. “Sorry,” she mouthed to Amy as they pulled away. 

Joe emerged from inside the house with a fresh cup of tea in his hands, shaking his head “That girl will never learn.”

“Shut up uncle Joe! Don’t you have to go and preen yourself before the postman gets here, or something?” said Amy glowering at him.

 _Great,_ thought Amy – someone else missing from her wedding.

 

\----

 

River sat on the swing for a while. She was still feeling confused, but melancholy was the overpowering emotion now. The puzzle still wasn’t complete, but she knew that she had lost so much, and missed so much. She also knew that she had been lost and missed in return. It hurt like hell, like a snake constricting her chest. There was a lost little girl that no one came for, sick and dying, and no one cared.

But it wasn’t their faults – she knew that now. It was something she had learnt a long time ago, and somehow, remembering having learnt it made her feel better. Not so black and not so sad anymore. Over. In the past. Done and dusted.

She started the swing moving again, pushing back with her feet and letting go, feeling the wind rush into her face. She felt good, she felt free.  She remembered this feeling; she had it so many times before, with him, her husband. Running around like a pair of children bunking off school. Hand in hand, looking for trouble.

She pulled her feet under her again, willing the memories to flood in and fill her head with everything both good and bad. Hurt and forgiveness, death and life, sorrow and joy, wonderful things and terrible things – everything. She started to laugh. When she was younger she had never equated marriage to being like this, being set free. She had always thought of it as being trapped, and she had enough of that already. She hadn’t even particularly wanted to get married when she did, but it was somehow like the pieces finally clicking together in her life. 

When she was Mels she was so angry that she didn’t notice people’s kindness, or if she did, she’d ignore it.  She wasn’t very good with kindness, especially not for herself. Mels was a fool, a magnificent fool, and she never realised how much people loved her. But River knew, and at that very moment there was no one else she would rather be, and nowhere else but here on this swing set, wind in her hair, completely exhilarated. Then, on the peak of the upswing, she jumped and stuck the landing – heels and all.

 

\----

 

Mels sat in the only cell in the police station in Leadworth. It wasn’t a cell, so much as a room with a window on the door.  No one was going to come and bail her out today. Everyone was busy. She went up to the window and looked though into the police station. “Terry! Terry!” she shouted out. She could hear an irritated rustle of a newspaper. “Terry! Terry! Terry!” she continued, “You know, I could go on like this all day! Terry! Terry! Terry!” She could hear a chair scape on the ground and heavy footsteps come in her direction. Terry Grimes’ face appeared on the other side of the window. “What?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

The police officer rolled his eyes, “Not going to the wedding, same as you, Mels. Do you know they have Lamb Shank on the menu? Lamb Shank, Mels! I can’t believe I’m missing out on Lamb Shank because you can’t behave for one day.”

“I was behaving! I told you, it was a misunderstanding, Mrs Gateshead told you, that curly haired _beast_ set me up!”

“Yes Mels, we sorted that out, but then there was the whole assaulting a police officer and evading arrest thing that came after.”

“Sorry I threw my shoes at you Terry, you know I love you really,” she said with the most pitiful puppy-dog look she could muster.

Terry smiled at her, “Why do you have to be so…this? You’re a lovely girl, Mels, but you go out looking for trouble. I wish you could see what it could be like if you’d only stay out of trouble. Do you think everyone around here would put up with you if they didn’t love you?”

Mels avoided his gaze, embarrassed. “It’s ‘cause they _have_ to put up with me. And stay out of trouble? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Never mind,” said Terry sighing wearily as he turned to walk back to his newspaper.

“No Terry, wait! You have to let me out. If not for me, for Amy and Rory, they’re my best mates and I didn’t get to see them get married, I just want to go and dance at the reception. I promise, you can lock me up again in the morning.”

“Mels…” Terry whinged.

“They probably still have Lamb Shank left too, it would be a shame to let it go to waste…” 

“Ugh!” said Terry, picking the cell key out of his bunch and unlocking the door. “But back here at 9am sharp!”

“Ten.”

“Fine, ten, but not a minute later.”

Mels saluted him and marched out the door in the direction of the town hall.

 

\---

 

River was too late for the ceremony, but that was okay, she wasn’t going to go in anyway. She stood outside next to the window waiting for the familiar, lost sound. She stood against the wall and thought her younger self would probably have lit a cigarette now to look edgy. She checked her watch again, only a minute had passed. She wondered if Rory had forgotten to give the book to Amy – of course he hadn’t – Rory was reliable if he was anything. She was never any good at being patient though, maybe if she just walked past the window quickly and glanced in, just to check that the book was there?

She stood away from the wall. “Casual!” she told herself, shaking her hands away from her body to loosen herself up. She took a breath and then walked by the window glancing in. She saw the book lying in front of Rory and Amy staring at her with what looked like…recognition. River looked away, unable to supress a smile now, and continued to walk until she had cleared the long window. She planted her back to the wall on the other side. Her hearts were thumping loudly in her ears and she was out of breath. Then she heard it, that wonderful, magnificent sound of the box materializing.  She jumped up and down and did a ridiculous celebratory dance that no one would ever see.

He was back and he was here, which was good timing because she really, really needed a hug.

The sun had set and River had decided to stay outside and wait.  She was exhausted and didn’t think she could take any more excitement. Besides, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go to her parents’ wedding on the night she was conceived.  So she sat in the gazebo in the town hall gardens, resting her weary head against one of the pillars.  She heard a voice come singing up the path, it was him. He’d parked the TARDIS out of the way somewhere, probably at the Ponds’, and was on his way back for the dancing, as usual. She smirked at his lovely predictability when it came to dancing, and how he only sang if he thought no one was listening.

She was about to intercept him when she noticed the outline of someone else coming in the distance and she froze. It was Mels. A creeping sense of dread crowded River as she remembered exactly what she had been trained for.  The Doctor disappeared inside the reception hall, oblivious to the danger. River held her breath, trying to decide whether to intervene or not. Should she risk interfering with her own time-stream, her precious time-stream that could never ever change? She couldn’t recall what happened here, but she thought she would have remembered if she’d tried to kill the Doctor or had run into her meddling future self. So River stayed still and hoped.

 

\---

 

Mels came striding up the garden path, grinning widely and ready for the dancing, but the further along path she got, the more her smile faded. She was remembering something, something that had been lost. A baby taken from her parents and brought up and trained to be a weapon. She stopped dead in her tracks and remembered the scared little girl that no one came for, who died alone in the street. Her hands formed fists. She remembered years and years of searching and finally coming to Leadworth and finding her parents. And all this hardship because of one man – the Doctor. 

Her jaw steeled.  She went to the window and looked in, there she saw for the first time, the man who was responsible for everything wrong and painful in her shitty life, dancing around like an idiot. Like he’d never done anything wrong in his whole life and it made her sick. She knew he was a monster, but she also knew that she wouldn’t exist had her parents – Amy and Rory – not travelled with him. She was torn. She wanted to get him for all that had happened to her in his name, make him suffer. But she couldn’t, not yet.

Knowing Terry would tell them that he let her out, she took out her phone and sent a text to Amy that she knew she would believe: _Met a rly fit bloke, sry 4 missing ur wedding. x_

She turned back down the garden path and was on her way.

 

\----

 

River thought better of staying around after that.  She went back to the Ponds’ and made herself a cup of nice, strong tea and sat at the kitchen table and waited. Before too long she could hear him coming through the side gate and into the back garden where the TARDIS was parked. She hopped up and went out before he could take off.

“Did you dance? Well, you always dance at weddings, don’t you?” she asked, her stomach fluttering with the thrill of seeing him.

“You tell me,” he said, teasing her and he turned around and looked at her with those big eyes that she loved so well.

“Spoilers,” she threw back playfully.

“The writing’s all back, but I didn’t peek,” he said and handed her beloved diary to her.

“Thank you.”

“Are you married, River,” he said. _He’s full of mischief tonight,_ she thought. He handed her a vortex manipulator and she started to strap it to her wrist.

“Are you asking?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“No, hang on. Did you think I was asking you to marry me, or asking if you were married?”

“Yes.” she replied breathily.

“River…who are you?” he asked smiling. It was then she knew that this was the baby-face version and there was absolutely no chance of the cuddle she craved. _Oh well._ She told him he’d find out soon and tapped her manipulator and disappeared.

She reappeared inside the TARDIS.

“River! I thought I told you never to use that thing when I’m in the Vortex, you could be torn apart if you don’t aim it right!” said the Doctor scolding her from his position underneath the console, fiddling with some wires.

“My aim is perfectly fine,” she replied flatly. 

“I don’t know how you even do it. You shouldn’t be able to. We’re a moving target in the middle of nowhere, literally,” he said climbing out and getting to his feet. “Once I figure it out I’m going to disable the function, and then where will you be?” He was rubbing his hands clean in a rag and stopped and looked her up and down. She thought he must have recognised where she had come from because his expression softened immediately. He threw aside the cloth came down the steps and went over to where she was standing.

“Long day?” he asked gently and brushed her cheek softly.

“The longest.” She smiled tiredly and he wrapped his arms around her hugging her tightly. She slipped her arms around his waist and let herself be held.

 

\----

 

Mels cursed all the way back to the B&B, kicking random things and ignoring her still painful toe.  She went in through the open door and wondered why no one locked doors when they knew she was about. She went to the kitchen and made herself a cheese sandwich, buttering the bread with a carving knife. She started to eat it whilst looking around the kitchen for some booze. All she could find was some cooking sherry – it would have to do.

She brought the bottle and the sandwich up to her room and sat on the bed and looked out the window at the moon, the planets and the stars. _I was born somewhere out there_ , she reminded herself. She finished the last of the sandwich and took a swig of the cooking sherry. It was revolting, but she kept drinking it all the same until it was gone. She lay back on the bed and thought of Amy and Rory leaving with the Doctor, leaving her behind. Her chest hurt and normally she would have broken something, but this time she didn’t, she allowed herself to feel it. Soon the sherry took effect and she slipped into an uncomfortable, dreamful sleep.

She woke with the sun beating in on her face, she groaned and turned away from it and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. She extracted herself from the bed and went to brush her teeth. She pushed the door open and looked at the mirror. 

Written in red lipstick in big, bold letters was: _I love you Melody Pond!_ It was her own handwriting too.

Mels stood startled staring at it. “Jesus! What the _fuck_ was in that sherry?”


End file.
